Billy

By Richard Walsh Earp

Billy is a homeless man living under an interstate overpass. He befriends two other men while dealing with the everyday trials of those living rough. The friends find their way to the All-Faith Christian Mission for a lunch. Why does the minister who runs All-Faith read the Bible to the men? What is the message he should get from a Bible reading? Why should he believe in a God? There seems to be a variety of churches calling themselves Christians. Why? If he's given a chance to get off the street, should he take it or revert to his homeless and free-living lifestyle? This story is a journey with Billy learning and questioning, all the while wondering what he should do next. Questions, questions...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888328187

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Billy

Richard Walsh Earp

Copyright © 2023 by Richard Walsh Earp

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

This work is dedicated to my late wife, Brenda, and my children, Beryl, Rich, Gen, and Mary Jo. And I also want to dedicate it to my wife, Anne, who encouraged me to finish writing this story and who meticulously edited the manuscript. May God bless us all.

Some days are filled with new, unexpected things. Sometimes you wake up, and the day turns out to be one surprise after another. At the end of the day, you look back and say, If only I had known. The future is hard to predict, but sometimes our expectations—good and bad—surprise us. Even our last day will come like a thief in the night.

Preface

Ihave written several books about my academic subject—databases. I thought I’d like to write a story and hence this work. Please understand that this is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to infer any person or place I have encountered or learned of in my life. The religious ideas are all my thoughts that seem to fit the circumstances in which the character, Billy, is immersed.

Biblical references are from the internet rather than from a specific Bible. I found the quotes by using a search engine to find phrases like King James Bible, Douay Bible, or perhaps a phrase that I knew was in a Bible such as vengeance is mine. I have not cited every biblical quote as coming from a specific web page or author.

Hopefully, this book will cause readers to think about their beliefs and perhaps prejudices. I am not a minister or preacher, and I do not mean to suggest any belief the reader should hold. It just seems to me that while some people may not have any particular religious background, they should explore religion and their relationship with our creator. As the book points out, life begins and ends—that’s what being alive means. What will be your relationship with God when your life ends?

Chapter 1

Evening

The rain had already started before Billy and his buddies made it to the underpass. It would be a restless night early on as they tried to get to sleep in wet clothes. The usual pleasant smell of after-rain would be overtaken by the other odor. The good news was that it wasn’t all that cold, and the wind was not strong. Billy, Larry, and Eduardo trudged up the embankment to a spot close to just under I-65.

Tonight, it was just the three of them. Hopefully, no one else would show up, and they’d have their soggy roost to themselves. If there were a larger group, somebody would talk way too long, and/or someone else would be noisily stumbling around through the night, causing somebody else to wake up. By sleeping under the bridge, eventually, they’d be dry; and hopefully, the cops wouldn’t notice them. Billy dutifully put his empty plastic coffee creamer container near the edge of their accommodation and let it fill with rainwater so he and the others would have some to drink.

These three guys got along okay; they shared what they had to a point. This threesome formed a few weeks ago while they were impatiently waiting in line for their evening meal at a soup kitchen. Larry and Eduardo had already teamed up, and they asked Billy if he’d like to join them. Even though these three got along well, they all knew they’d probably be alone or perhaps with another makeshift group in a couple of weeks or, perhaps, even days. Often, guys on the road are gloomy loners; they make friends cautiously. What sometimes happens is that one or more of the guys in a group will take off on a moment’s notice, not to be seen again.

In this world, if you are lucky enough to be in a group, you try to support one another. Although one does not like to see a member of the group take off with no word, it happens. The remaining members might wonder if they said something to the departing member to irritate him or whatever. Whatever might include a woman, a money-find, liquor, jail, sickness, or any of dozens of things. On the other hand, if a guy left, then so what? Nobody really seemed to care one way or the other. Billy’s mind drifted. It’s too bad, but we don’t seem to care. When a guy leaves, it makes me a little sad. So what? I wonder if I took off, would Larry or Eduardo even comment? I’m free to come and go as all these guys are. It’s why we’re here—freedom. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if somebody cared a little?

Billy was an affable southern boy who had always seemed to find trouble in his life. He picked his associates poorly and early on got in trouble doing mischievous teenage things with other guys. Billy passed through the first three years of high school. He was a reasonably good student. He liked to read, but he didn’t care for numbers. He also didn’t care to participate in anything like sports or clubs. He always kept to himself. Billy’s dad was an ex-army and very private. After his father’s career as a soldier, he seemed to be distant and cold to Billy. Sadly, Billy’s mother passed away while he was in high school. When his mom was gone, his dad became even more faraway. Billy often thought, I don’t want to tell the guys my mom died, and my dad keeps disappearing for days at a time. I guess I sure don’t have normal parents, and it makes me feel bad when these guys talk about their families. I don’t want to face questions I won’t answer—just leave me out of it! I don’t need friends anyway.

Billy had never tried drugs. Working at a job somewhere after school or in the summer was just not his thing. Even when he found some employment, he always felt bored. He usually got fired in a couple of weeks, or he just quit coming to work. When he was in high school, he got caught shoplifting. The small grocery store owner was not understanding when he told the man he had no money and was hungry. The police had him spend four anxious weeks in a reform school.

Billy’s size was average in almost every way—height, weight, and looks. In a crowd, no one would pick him out. Billy was now in his early twenties. As Larry and Eduardo talked about where they’d like to live, Billy articulated no geographical preference to the others except he did once say he never wanted to go back to his unnamed small hometown. The residents of the said town were delighted he’d left. He had walked away from his senior year at high school. He was now in a larger city although where he was in the city was far from the nicer part of town.

Small towns have a way of making what they think is a misfit feel unwanted. Because he grew up there, Billy knew many of the people in their little town and vice versa. Before he decided to leave town, Billy found ways to earn just enough money for something to eat. To make a couple of bucks, he’d often find an older person cutting grass and offer to finish the job for a handout. He’d sometimes go hang out under the big sycamore tree at the hardware store parking lot, hoping for an offer of casual cash labor. He felt that absolutely no one in his hometown wanted him around. People either turned their heads when he approached, or they simply ignored him.

As he started his senior year in high school, Billy was sleeping on a stained and smelly mattress in a storage room over a garage. The room was dusty and full of cardboard boxes filled with junk nobody wanted or treasured. The people who owned his apartment were acquainted with Billy’s parents and felt sorry for him when his mom died and his dad split. He woke up early one morning and, on the spur of the moment, decided to leave. His dad likely had done the same thing. He thought back to the moment he decided to go, My mom is dead, and my dad just upped and left with no goodbye. I have nobody keeping me here. The only thing I like about school is the library because nobody talks to me, and I can enjoy reading something. To heck with school! I don’t need it.

Larry was about forty-five, an ex-army soldier, and now a drifter. He was taller than average, dark, and stocky. While almost all homeless men have no jewelry, Larry wore a cheap blue plastic pinky ring that he likely found on the street. While his clothes were filthy, he tried to look neat. When he was on active duty, you’d say he was the kind of person one would not want to tangle with. Originally, Larry was from Chicago and wanted to go back, but he knew his sisters-in-law didn’t like him.

After his army tour, he was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. He couldn’t get comfortable in his old neighborhood. Larry had been overseas and felt the pain of seeing his friends die in places with no name while supporting people who had some vague cause he didn’t understand or care about. Larry’s parents had passed away, and his brother’s wives concluded he was a bad influence on their kids. He worked a few menial jobs but felt the tug of freedom. He confided to the guys he spent what little money he begged from strangers on alcohol and cigarettes. He’d rather have a beer and a cigarette than eat. On the positive side, he was easy to like and got along well with Billy and Eduardo.

While Larry and Billy were affable and easy to commune with, Eduardo was cautious and not quick to make friends. Eduardo, probably in his thirties, was a smallish fellow who had a slight accent. The other two guys didn’t know much about Eduardo as he told no one anything about his background. Larry and Billy felt that his background was his business alone. Guys rambling free and unencumbered don’t want to be questioned, so his friends felt no slight about his silence.

This evening, Larry had cleverly raided a motel garbage can just before the rain had started. He garnered part of a pizza and several partially eaten sandwiches he stuffed into the pizza box. Now that the trio was settled, dinner was a little damp, but hungry stomachs can ignore the less-than-pristine service. To his chagrin, Larry was unable to find any empty wine or whisky bottles, so there’d be no after-dinner cocktails. Coffee would have been nice, but none of the three had any money tonight; the bank across the street was closed.

Sometimes during the day, they’d go into the bank and make a quick cup of free coffee. The teller would give them the schoolteacher frown, but as long as they made no trouble, she said nothing. If they just got the coffee and quickly left, she’d let them get away with it. Road guys pick up on body language very quickly. They knew they couldn’t ask permission for coffee, and they knew none of the customers would want to talk to them. They knew the workers in the bank didn’t want them there either. This teller was sympathetic but cautious and unsmiling. To get coffee, they knew they had to wait for the right moment. In a way, their behavior in this situation was like a predator waiting for prey.

One thing Billy’s kind learns quickly is how to read other people. In an instant, a guy knows whether a person is most likely a friend or a foe, sympathetic to the homeless, or just disgusted by them. The teller in the bank frowns, but she just lets the bums grab some free coffee. Either the teller herself or the manager is tolerant of homeless people because, in most banks, they’d have someone kick them out or bar their entrance. The boys knew not to enter the bank if there were customers because then the bank would surely have them ejected. On the other hand, if the time was right, this bank branch would let a better-behaved hobo have a cup of coffee without comment. This evening, they were way too late to make it before the bank closed. During the previous day, the bank/customer situation just wasn’t right to get in for their free cup of coffee; they had waited too long. No after-dinner refreshment was available this evening.

The rain was relentless and hard. Back under the interstate, the three wet, unwashed, and unwanted homeless men settled into their little space. This hard rain was a good thing for them because the cops would be busy with traffic accidents, and no other traveler would likely stop by. While they were swapping lies over dinner, Eduardo confided that he wanted to go to South Florida later in the year; he said at least four times how he hated cold weather. This is new. Eduardo is letting us into his story. I wonder if he has a family. Just smile and don’t ask questions.

After an hour or so of meaningless conversation and tall tales, the boys each drifted off to sleep, not knowing what they might find in the after-rain.

Chapter 2

Morning

The rain had stopped in the early hours. The sun was rising, and so was Billy. The rain-cleaned air was refreshing; it smelled nice. Billy took a deep breath that made him feel good about himself and his life free of responsibility. This morning, the agenda was treasure hunting. He was excited that he might just find a couple of dollars or something of value. When a guy lives under a bridge, he learns how to check for things he might find. This bridge was near a shopping mall—big parking lot, some dark corners, and also some mall cops who couldn’t make it as real cops—or perhaps they were real cops who were moonlighting to make a few extra dollars. The night before, it had rained hard. Billy, as well as all the people who lived outside , knew how this parking lot drained. After a rainy night, water pools in some corners of the lot as it runs off. In the pooled water may be a loose dollar bill or two, a lost lottery ticket, a bigger bill, or something else of value—a piece of jewelry was always the hope. Who knows what a guy might find in his corner of the lot?

Some guys had their favorite corner drain. If they thought it would rain the night before, they might use a dead bush or a discarded bit of trash to act as a filter for their drain. There was a running argument among the bridge dwellers as to whether it was better to check pools of water or a drain. The